The Pale Tower
The rain has been falling for three days, a relentless, grey curtain that blurs the edge of the world and turns the mud outside into a sucking, brown abyss, yet you remain seated in the center of the great hall, your hands folded in your lap, your eyes fixed on the single, flickering tallow candle that serves as the only witness to your solitude and the only light in this cavernous, echoing...
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